Incalculable
by Socket-52
Summary: She thinks, if she's still, if she's quiet, then it won't hurt. (A collection of Carol & Carol/Daryl drabbles)
1. Chapter 1

**Timeline** **:** 2x07 Pretty Much Dead Already

 **Drabble 1**

She thinks, if she's still, if she's quiet, then it won't hurt. The pain will forget she's there. Forget to crucify her... move on to someone else.

They think she's grown hard, that she's cold. Not attending her daughters funeral - how could she?

How can she explain that she can't bear it? That if she stands over that grave it will be real. That it wasn't her Sophia who came out of the barn. Her daughter is still out there... in the ether. Waiting.

That's how she copes - knowing that thing, that body lying in the ground isn't her daughter... not really. That the essence of Sophia isn't tied to that thing... that monster she was turned into.

Even Daryl's mad at her... but this isn't about him or any of them. This is about Sophia.

Carol stares out the window; the sun glares in the sky. She feels a traitor to him, as if she owes him... for all the kind things he's said... all the gentle measures... everyone else turned from her but Daryl met her eyes and she can't seem to tell him how important that was, how much she appreciated it...

People seem to want to tell her how to grieve but can't meet her eye.

The group is always trying to force her into a role. Battered housewife to be pitied, weak mother unable to protect her kid. Now she's the woman without a family, without a reason to live... she's sick of their labels.

Daryl doesn't do that. She feels herself with him. Not the self she puts on display for the group. She's unguarded with him - he gets it. She can allow her instincts to take over. There's no judgement from him. None; for the first time in her life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Timeline:** TS-19

 **Library Books**

He strolls into the rec room and walks in on her browsing through the bookshelf.

Carol doesn't notice him, her fingers trail the spines of books. Perusing the titles.

There's no one but them. He thinks of leaving... they've never been alone before. He doesn't know what the hell to say to her.

She's humming to herself. Cheerful. A smile instinctively creeps onto his lips. He's never seen her happy before. Never seen her do nothin' but cower. Of all the people they lost during the attack on the camp, he's glad Ed Peletier was one. God finally got somethin' right.

She's wearing a white dressing gown, flimsy. It's warm in the CDC facility. Hell, he's never been so cosy in his damned life. His room is like a goddamned hotel.

He's feeling light-headed - still reeling from not having to watch his back every damned second, not worrying about hunting enough game to feed everyone and not having to stay on watch.

Maybe it's the wine too...

She looks serene. Her body is relaxed and it's the first time he notices how pretty she is. Now the grime's been washed away her face has a soft quality. Large shining eyes and freckly, silky skin.

He hovers, then takes a step forward. His shoes squeak on the polished floor. She turns to look at him and he finds himself holding his breath.

She smiles brightly. "Hi."

He nods back, feeling caught-out - like he was spying on her or intruding or somethin'. Stupid really, since they've all been living on top of each other at the camp. She's washed and ironed his damned underpants for god sake. No need to be getting all coy now.

But there was something intimate about finding her unguarded. Daryl looks down at his feet, on the verge of blushing. He was never any good at talking to girls. And up till now the group always had somethin' pressing to do - some mission or chore, something to focus on. Now there was just him and Carol, alone, in this room.

"Find anything interesting?" he asks nervously, meeting her eyes.

She smiles and he hopes it lasts. Hopes it's a sight he gets to see regular.

"There's so many books, I don't know where to start," she confesses.

Her hands slip into her dressing gown pockets, tugging it down, pulling the fabric taught against her lithe frame.

He shrugs but his voice is soft. "Pick one you ain't never read before," he suggests.

She pulls out a copy of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer and tucks it under her arm, satisfied with her choice.

She tilts her head to one side, studying him and he gulps; suddenly feeling gawkish.

He's never seen eyes that blue before. So fixed. So intense.

"You lookin' for a book too?" she asks.

Daryl snorts a laugh. "Lookin' for Rick," he corrects.

"He's gone to bed."

Daryl feels self-conscious. He shrugs; he wanted a drinking buddy but the guys all seem to have left him hanging. Pussies. "Guess I'd better hit the sack too..." he mumbles.

There's a silence. He thinks of telling her how happy he is that Ed's dead, that she's free, that they've survived this horrible mess, that he never learnt to read, that he'd like nothin' better than to listen to her read to him... that the sound of her soothing voice has a strange effect on him... that when his time comes, he doesn't mind if her voice is the last thing he hears…

Instead he bobs his head low and says. "Night."

"Night," Carol replies.

Daryl heads out of the room, feeling foolish and way more loaded than he thought.

Carol glances down at _Tom Sawyer_ , pleased because she hasn't read it to Sophia yet. She heads back to her room.


End file.
